


Boys & Girls

by nobleanchor



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobleanchor/pseuds/nobleanchor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Childhood best friends Gwen and Arthur reunite 15 years later to find they've changed a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She couldn't _believe_ how much he'd changed.

Little, stringy, petulant Arthur, who'd smashed her sandcastles when he grew impatient and pulled her ponytail when he sensed he was losing an argument.

Most of the time they'd been the best of mates, their sides pressed against one another as they laid on their stomachs on the sun-bleached dock of his family's lake, dangling small nets over the edge, intent on catching the biggest insect they could find.

She remembered falling asleep against him, her head resting on his shoulder and his against her hair, skin warmed through from the incandescent summer sun.

No, she could barely believe this was the boy she had known. The man before her had such a captivating presence, such masculine vigor. He was the sort of fully formed male figure that might have made Michelangelo weep.

She was mesmerized by how the muscles in his back and shoulders shifted as he twisted around to catch the football against his knee; how the sun caught his hair in a glowing halo; how his smile brought a lightness to his bottomless blue eyes. She watched them twinkle as he laughed at something one of his mates said, and she admired the elegance of his gait, his neck, his hands.

How had he become _this_ from the boy she'd known?

She wondered if she'd seem as different to him.

Only one way to find out, she supposed.

"Arthur?" She called out before she lost her nerve. The men were packing up their things and making to leave.

She saw his head jerk around, looking for the source of her voice. His eyes fell on her face and his smile faltered briefly. She could tell that he didn't immediately recognize her. He turned and said something to his friend, and the group of guys went on without him.

Arthur approached her slowly, and she could tell he was still trying to place her in his mind.

When he was close enough, she decided to help him out.

"It's me, Gwen." She didn't know why she suddenly felt so shy.

If she hadn't been so inexplicably nervous, she might have laughed at how his eyes widened and he seemed physically taken aback by this revelation.

" _Guinevere?_ Is it _really_ you? _"_ His eyes poured over her, taking in her casual cut off jean short shorts and bikini top, her smooth, slightly frizzy curls pulled into a loose braid over her shoulder, trying to reconcile the woman she'd become with the little girl he used to play with.

She smiled and asked "how have you been?" for lack of a better idea of how to start a conversation with someone she hadn't seen or spoken to in 15 years.

Apparently fully convinced, he beamed at her and stepped forward to give her a massive hug. Pulling back he looked her over once again. "I can't believe it. What are you doing here? It's been so long…"

She looked down at her sandy feet shyly. "I know. I'm here on holiday, but I'm not sure how long I'll be staying."

Arthur shook his head, unable to suppress the grin on his face. "We've got some catching up to do."

She agreed.

* * *

"I dare you," he challenged her, looking down over the railing on the pier at the 15 foot drop into the water.

She looked at him, not in the least bit surprised. "Well, well, I see you haven't changed much, have you?" He was always trying to trick her into doing something dangerous.

"And you're still too afraid, aren't you?"

She scowled at him. "Am not. But it's a bit rough, don't you think?"

He looked at the slightly choppy waves and shrugged. "I've been in worse."

"Oh, now I'm _quite_ impressed. So this is nothing to you?"

"Yeah, I'd do it," he proclaimed, showing off a little.

"Prove it." She smiled slyly, knowing she had him trapped. If there was still a shred of the young Arthur she knew all those years ago, she knew he would be too proud to refuse.

"Alright then." He agreed, promptly pulling off his sandals and setting them on the ground beside her. Hefting himself up onto the wide wooden railing, he dangled his feet over the side.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little nervous for him, and she instinctively grabbed his forearm lest he slip right over the edge before he intended to.

"Hey," he chuckled, slowly pulling his arm out of her grasp. "It's no big deal. Watch, and learn."

She obediently stood back, observing anxiously as he drew himself up to stand on the railing which seemed somehow narrower to her now. If she weren't so nervous about something going horribly wrong, she might have been admiring the spectacular new view she had now been afforded of her old mate's incredible physique as he prepared to jump.

"Ready?" he asked her, sensing her anxiety.

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. He turned his head to look down briefly, then over his shoulder with a quick wink before he sprung off of the railing in a well-practiced dive.

She watched as he disappeared into the water below, and waited to see his golden head reappear.

And waited.

When 15 seconds had passed, she began to panic. Her eyes searched the water below frantically for any sign of him.

Suddenly, she saw his head break above the water, a little ways from where she had been searching.

He pushed the wet hair out of his eyes and looked up at her with a strange expression on his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Uhm…I may have lost something."

She gave him an impatient look that said, _well?_

She followed his gaze toward the shoreline where she saw a pair of crumpled shorts washed up in the sand, shallow waves lapping against the dark red fabric.

She doubled over in a fit of giggles. "You idiot!"

He had the humility to look a bit embarrassed, and she wondered how long she dared to drag this out.

In the end, she took pity on him treading there in the cold water, and made her way around the base of the pier to the shore to collect his trunks.

Wading in just above her knees, she called to him, "You're going to have to come a bit closer!"

Reluctantly, he advanced a few feet closer to her, but he was still out of reach. The water was becoming too shallow, and he was already bared to his belly button.

"This is as far as I'm coming," he insisted.

She sighed, residual giggles bubbling up as she contemplated the situation. "You know," she said, her breath catching a bit as she resigned herself to wading further into the frigid water and soaking her shorts, "I _have_ seen you naked. We used to take baths together."

His eyebrows shot up, and he gave her a disbelieving expression. "I think…this is a little different, _Guinevere."_

She couldn't stop herself from laughing at him just then, and he made an exasperated face in response for her entertainment.

She stopped when the water reached her belly button. "Come here," she demanded.

Arthur was out of moves. She had his shorts, after all. It wasn't like he could go anywhere without them. He swished forward toward her until they were only a foot or so apart, stooping a little to compensate for the shallower water.

He reached out to retrieve the shorts from her hand, but before he could she had snatched them back behind her with a mischievous look in her eyes.

Without hesitating, he lunged forward, snaking his arms around her back and grasping at her hands, but he was unable to free the shorts from her wicked grip.

He suddenly realized he had only succeeded in bringing her closer against him, and he saw the realization dawn on her face a second later.

They both stilled, frozen in their precarious position.

She looked up at his face slowly, at the droplets dripping from his disheveled hair, down his chest, his nipples pebbled from the cold.

Turning her face up to his, she found she was only inches from his lips, and she saw that his eyes were intent on her lips.

" _Guinevere_ ," he said softly, not a little breathlessly.

She found this closeness extremely preoccupying, and she was afraid what she might do if she looked into his bold sapphire eyes for too long. She bit her lip, smiling slightly as she turned her head away.

Just then, she felt his hands loosen on hers behind her back, and would have mourned the absence but she felt them move to grab her waist in his strong grip instead, pulling her against him.

She felt his warm breath ghost across her face just before his lips covered hers, and she brought her own hands from behind her back to throw around his neck, still gripping his shorts.

She was lost in the sensuousness of his kiss, lips moving ardently against hers; the strong but soft muscle of his tongue massaging hers, exploring her mouth, taking her in.

Her body was plastered to his, one of his hands finding its way just to the top of her rear to pull her more firmly against him. Suddenly she was aware that she could feel _everything._

Her mind was racing, not unlike her heart, trying to register all of the sensations of his hard, muscular body against hers. This was _Arthur_ , after all. Arthur, the boy she had basked in the sun with, slung mud at, hid in the cupboards with when her mum got cross.

But this Arthur was all raw, masculine strength and beauty. She suddenly felt urges to do things with him, _to him_ , she'd never dreamed she'd had the guts to do. Sliding her hands down his lower back, feeling the muscle and definition, she couldn't help herself from grabbing ahold of his backside, so muscular and bare and—

"Oh my god" she mumbled against his mouth in between kisses. "What are we doing?"

"Mmmm," came Arthurs response, "I don't care." He continued his frenzied worship of her mouth with his lips, and when she tried to tear her lips away from his, he changed focus to her neck instead, eventually settling where her neck met her shoulders.

"Ohhhh, god," Gwen let out an involuntary moan as he found _just_ the spot that always set her nerves afire. His hands slid up and down her sides, caressing. She was afraid to acknowledge the ever-hardening heat she felt against her stomach.

"Arthur," she said, little more than a moan at first.

" _Arthur._ " She repeated, trying to bring herself to her senses as much as him.

Arthur sighed deeply against her neck and dragged his head up to meet her gaze.

Her eyelids fluttered open just as reluctantly, her hands sliding back up over his back, his chest.

She could tell he was waiting for her to say something.

_What had she been about to say, anyway? That this was crazy? That they were in public? That they should spend more time getting to know each other again?_

Somehow, she didn't care about any of these things. She wasn't sure why she had felt the to need to interrupt what was quickly becoming one of the most exciting encounters of her life.

"We should…" she started to say, but she could see him bracing himself for disappointment, his hands still clutching at her waist.

"We should do this somewhere else," she finished, a wide grin spreading over her features. A matching grin broke out on his face a moment later.

"Well then…" he said flirtatiously, "can I please have my shorts back?"

She glanced down at the water where his arousal might have been on display had they not stumbled a few inches into deeper water during their frantic exploration of each other.

Glancing back up at him with a wicked grin, she said "only for a bit."

He widened his eyes at her in mock scandal as he took them from her hands and she turned away, affecting modesty with a small chuckle.

The water splashed up against her back as he pulled his shorts on quickly, and she started to wade away from him slowly, toward the shore.

"Oh no, you don't!" she heard his grumble from behind her, and suddenly she was locked tightly against him, her back against his chest, his arms holding firmly to her waist.

She felt his breath tickle at her neck as he bent his head to her ear. "I'm going to make you pay for this," he whispered darkly against her ear, and by the warm wetness of his tongue on her neck and the impossibly hard thickness of him pressing against her backside, she _believed_ him. She felt heat and moisture of a different kind seep between her legs, and she shivered in anticipation.

Removing his arms from around her, he took a moment to adjust himself before running ahead of her, splashing through the water toward the shore.

"You coming?" he called over his shoulder as he reached the solid shore at last.

"Definitely." She said to herself, surging forward to catch up.

She was going to enjoy reacquainting herself with her playmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first story, so any feedback would be much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on, you used to kick my arse," he goaded her with a dangerously sexy smile.

"I was nine! I haven't played in _years_!" she protested.

They were making their way back to his flat, cutting through the park where they found an abandoned football.

"No," he shook his head, eyes still glinting with the threat of a dare. "I don't believe you. You fought so hard to be on that team, there's no way you'd give it up."

She looked down bashfully, smiling as she recalled her stubborn eight year old self.

He was right. Gwen had watched every practice session at the park across from her house through her bedroom window until it wasn't enough. Then she'd watched from the sidewalk, fingers laced through the chain-link fence, clutching tightly as she tracked the ball's movement longingly. Soon enough, she was kicking at the base of the fence, yearning to feel the connection of the ball against the powerful drive of her small foot.

Then the day came when the ball breached the fence. Her heart was flying as she seized her chance, grabbing the ball and sprinting onto the field with it, choosing a goal and making a run for it. The boys stood around, unsure of what to do, until someone called out "Well, someone stop her! She's going to make it!"

That was all a scrawny blonde boy needed to hear; he took off after her, bony elbows jutting into her side as he fought to possess the ball. He was surprised when she offered resistance, shoving her shoulder into his with just as much force. They surged forward, tumbling against one another, each fighting for control, until at last she had reached the goal and made a clear shot that the keeper couldn't block.

She threw her arms up in victory as a chorus of disappointed groans issued from the group of boys behind her.

And then there was silence. Her smile slipped slowly as she turned around to face the team, finding herself suddenly the subject of intense scrutiny.

No one said a word.

Except _him_. The boy she'd been battling shoved himself up from the ground, his practice uniform thoroughly muddied.

"That was really good," he conceded sincerely, approaching Gwen. She turned to face him, smiling.

"Thanks. Do you mind if I play?"

But before the boy could respond, the team's coach was approaching her.

"Excuse me, we're trying to have a practice here, young lady. Where is your mum?"

Gwen shook her head in confusion. What did it matter where her mum was?

"At home. Can't I play?"

"I'm afraid we're rather on a busy schedule. This is a boys only team. Now, I think you should go home."

"Come _on_ , Mr. Morrison, can't she play with us? She's really good."

"I'm sorry, Arthur, it's against the rules. And we're running out of time." He turned to Gwen once more, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Where do you live?"

Gwen pointed across the park, indicating her small white house across the street.

Mr. Morrison nodded, effectively dismissing her, then turned back to the others to direct them in another drill.

Gwen lingered there a moment, feeling more strongly than ever that the world was an unfair place. How could they not let her play? She knew she was better than most of the boys on the team.

"I'm sorry," her new acquaintance said softly, giving her one last sulking look before dragging his feet to rejoin his teammates.

"I cried for days," Gwen recalled, bringing herself back to the present.

Arthur frowned in sympathy, setting the ball down where he had been juggling it skillfully. "Maybe, but _we_ never saw that. You just showed up every day and interfered until Morrison demanded to speak to your parents."

She laughed at that. It was true, she remembered the look of surprise on her mother's face when she'd learned that her little Guinevere had been so troublesome. But after hearing about her daughter's determination, she'd given the coach an earful for not offering an option for girls and somehow talked him into accepting Gwen on the boys team.

"I _was_ the best, wasn't I?" she grinned proudly.

"Well, I'd say I was a very close second," he smirked back at her. Arthur's competitiveness had always pushed Gwen to be the best she could be. It was what brought them together; what eventually made them inseparable, much to their parents' dismay.

"Hmm...we'll see about that now, shall we, Pendragon?" She cocked an eyebrow as she pounced to steal the ball from where it rested beneath his foot.

* * *

He almost felt like a kid again, lying beneath the billowing slope of white sheets they'd draped over the furniture of his flat in a makeshift fort.

They used to do this. Cast blankets and sheets haphazardly about the room until they had erected some sort of loose tent-like structure that only the two of them could fit under. Something about the small space had been completely magical to him, as if the outside world ceased to exist. They could spend hours in their little world talking, laughing, pretending, eventually sleeping.

His eyes traced the pattern of dappled sunlight dancing over the makeshift ceiling, and he almost felt like a kid again, remembering how it used to be.

_Almost_ , he thought significantly, turning his head to face the dusky-skinned goddess beside him. She was stretched out like a cat on her stomach, barely covered with a thin blanket tangled loosely around her lower body.

She was certainly different. The narrow, bony little girl's body he remembered had ripened magnificently in all the right places in womanhood. Her breasts sweet, and perfectly formed to fit in his grasp (with a little tantalizing extra to spill over, tempting his mouth). The plane of smooth skin that stretched over her waist. Her hips, much improved, he thought as he admired how they flared out slightly, creating an appetizing curve. Her legs, _dear lord_ , she could keep those wrapped around him for days and he would never tire of the feel of them. Even her feet were slender and graceful, where once stubby little toes had kicked and prodded against his shins.

He met her twinkling gaze, half of her face tucked into an outstretched arm and covered by the cascade of her wild curls.

He could still see, if he looked hard enough, the girl that she was. But her face was softer, broader. He recognized the sweet spatter of freckles stretching across her cheekbones and the widened bridge of her nose, but new to him were the feminine eyebrows that arched elegantly over her beguiling, catlike eyes. He dared not contemplate her lips; they were much too diverting.

And yet she was still undeniably _Gwen_.

It was just that now she was so...so _lush_ , he thought. So lovely. When had she become this... _creature_ , capable of affecting him this way?

He knew he wasn't the first to notice, judging by the prowess she'd recently demonstrated (several times, at that), and he suddenly felt irrationally jealous of all the men that must have noticed her in his absence.

Turning his body toward her, he ghosted a hand up the smooth expanse of her back, tickling her spine, and finally twining his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck. Her eyelids fell heavily at the sensation, and he smirked at how easy it was.

He wasn't a kid anymore. Kids didn't do _this_ , he thought as he leaned his body over her, slithering down to place a soft, deliberate kiss against the small of her back, just above her rear. He heard her hum in approval as she tossed her head to the side, unconsciously lifting her backside slightly.

He grinned, pulling himself to slide up over her, covering her completely. It wasn't hard to do; she was a small thing.

"Arthur," she murmured hazily against her arm as she felt him nuzzling her neck, his hand caressing her sides.

"Hmm?" his nose drifted along the curve of her neck and down to her shoulder, where he pressed his mouth reverently against her warm skin.

"Be careful what you start," she warned teasingly.

He laughed softly into her shoulder. "I think it's a little late for that."

"We can't do this all day…" she argued halfheartedly, even as she squirmed beneath him, pressing herself into his groin.

"I don't see why not," he groaned. He was already painfully hard for her again.

Drawing back slightly, he gave her enough room to prop herself up.

He smoothed his hand appreciatively over her arse, admiring its generous curvature, his body suddenly tense with the anticipation of seeing them joined from this vantage point.

Her back arched into his touch, encouraging him, and he met her heavy-lidded, salacious gaze over her shoulder. She shifted her weight and he felt one of her hands reach back to grip his thigh, urging him closer. Needing no further prompting, he slid himself slowly inside her thoroughly wet folds, feeling the scorching heat of her consume him once more. They moaned together, both struggling in vain to keep their eyes open at the achingly delicious sensation of each other.

_God_ , _she was perfect_. How could he have missed out on this for so long?

He tried to maintain a leisurely pace at first, but she was already demanding more, rocking herself back against him and moaning his name softly. He gritted his teeth, gripping her hips as he thrust more forcefully, rewarded by the raised pitch of her cries and the arousal that dampened her thighs.

_"Yes_ ," she practically sobbed against the pillow, and he pounded into her furiously, wanting to give her everything he had.

His hands slipped against her hips, slick with a light sheen of sweat; hers or his, he didn't know or care. He bent over, luxuriating in the delicate curve of her back against his chest, the delicious roundness of her backside meeting his hips as he drove relentlessly into her.

His ever-growing need was consuming him, and he bit lightly at her shoulder blade, tasting the salt of her skin, listening to her ragged panting beneath him and the persistent smack of skin on skin as they moved feverishly against each other.

He felt light headed, so close, and he needed her with him. Smoothing a hand around her hip and stomach, he reached down toward the pulsing heat between her legs, sliding his fingers through the small patch of coarse hair to touch her where she wanted it most.

She moaned loudly as his deft fingers found her clit, stroking, using her wetness to slide over her until he knew she was about to lose herself.

" _Fuck_ , Arthur, yes!" she cried, quaking, and he thrust deep within her a few more times before he felt himself burst, his whole being seeming to drain inside of her as she writhed beneath him.

He groaned as they collapsed together on the makeshift bed, still partly joined. Ragged gasps gave way to deep, measured sighs as they fought to control their breathing. He was vaguely aware that he must be crushing her a bit, but Gwen didn't seem to mind.

Arthur drew back at last, withdrawing from her and falling onto his back in exhaustion. She rolled over to face him and he pulled her against him.

"Christ," was all Arthur could manage, his voice breaking slightly as he turned to kiss her sweaty forehead.

"I know," Gwen agreed breathlessly. "I can't believe we wasted so much time apart. Or wearing clothes, for that matter."

"That's what I've been thinking since the moment I recognized you."

They lapsed into silence, and he felt as comfortable as he had when they were children. That is, with a much more acute awareness of how incredible she really was.

"Do you remember," she said after a while, "when we almost got away with running away?"

He snorted, recalling the time they'd run into the woods by his house, thinking they'd made it far enough that no one could ever find them. "Yeah, but then you felt so bad that you weren't going to make it home for dinner that we had to go back."

She chuckled. "Well, and no one would have known if your grubby little hands hadn't been completely stained from blackberries! It was all over your lips, too! I can still see it." As if to emphasize her point, she reached up to press her mouth briefly to his, darting her tongue out to taste his lips.

Arthur smiled broadly at the image as she drew away, remembering above all the stony look on his father's face when he ascertained just how far Arthur had strayed that day.

"Ah, what a couple of shitheads we were."

Gwen's exhausted laughter puffed against his chest as she closed her eyes and burrowed closer to him.

He summoned just enough energy to lean forward and kiss her shoulder tenderly, stroking his hand over the smooth skin of her arm as she huddled against him. And by some long dormant instinct, his head fell softly against the top of hers, cushioned by her soft curls as he succumbed to the languid lull of the summer heat.


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually they realized they both needed to eat.

So they dressed slowly, helping each other with teasing looks even if they were both fully capable of dressing themselves.

"What do you feel like?" Arthur asked, suddenly wondering if her tastebuds had changed too. He had always been the picky eater, and she'd always given him shit for it, even as a kid.

She tilted her head from side to side, making a show of considering her options. "Something spicy, maybe?"

She was clearly fishing for a particular response from him, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"Indian it is," he suggested nonchalantly, brushing past her to grab his wallet and keys by the door.

"Oh, _no!_ " she gasped in disbelief. "Arthur Pendragon eats _Indian_ food now?"

He rolled his eyes at her, holding the door open as she slipped past him and into the corridor.

"I _am_ a fully grown adult, if you hadn't noticed," he said dryly.

"I had, as a matter of fact," she replied, and he didn't miss how she darted her eyes to his crotch significantly. "But that doesn't mean that you've got the tastebuds of one. I have to admit, when I got up for water I half expected your cupboards to be filled with cartoon mac n cheese."

"Hey, it's good stuff, that!" He would defend it. Even if he had matured, there were some things that were timeless. Okay, maybe not _timeless_ , but he wasn't giving up the cartoon noodles, not for anyone.

"Well then, I'm ready for you to impress me with your mature taste."

It wasn't the most authentic Indian place he'd been to, but then, most restaurants around here tended to serve chips as a courtesy anyway. To be fair, it was one of those point-to-the-picture-menu-and-pay-first places. _Good enough for drunk teenagers, good enough for the two of us,_ he supposed.

He made a point to order something exotic looking with at least two chili pepper symbols next to the name, and she made a point to stop talking as he took his first bites, still doubting that he would actually eat it. He kicked her playfully under the table, letting her know he didn't appreciate her skepticism.

They both agreed that the food was absolute rubbish, but the chips were good. She moved to his side of the table and they squeezed together, crowding over the small basket and laughing hysterically as Arthur attempted to catch chips in his mouth. The game rapidly devolved into a contest of who could feed the other the most chips, and they ended up fighting over the last pieces.

When Gwen won, he simply watched her eyes as they twinkled with laughter, and he was helpless to resist the impulse to lean over and kiss her sweetly.

"Mmm," he licked his lips, and she giggled, sucking the salt off of her fingers.

"Shall we?" He stood up, offering a hand to help her up.

"What about dessert?"

"Plenty of time for that later," he winked. "Let's go for a walk." He realized he'd been assuming they'd return to his flat. He hadn't considered where she might be staying.

But before he could think to ask, she grinned and stood up to join him, and the sheer warmth of her expression drove all the questions from his mind as he realized all he really wanted to do was kiss her again.

* * *

"I thought I saw you once," he said suddenly, and Gwen was left slightly dizzied by the rapid change of topic. They had just been laughing about how they used to conspire to steal Uther's cufflinks before one of his important meetings.

Arthur was staring down at his feet, uncharacteristically bashful. "On the bus. Just a glimpse, really, but I wondered where you were. I think sometimes I imagined you. Or what I thought you might be like, and there you were. Just a flash."

Gwen placed her hand over his, resting between them on the concrete ledge.

"Why didn't you look for me?"

He looked up at her, searching her face. "Why didn't you look for _me?_ "

She shook her head. She didn't have an answer for that. At least not one that he'd accept.

"I… suppose I thought you'd moved on with your life, probably forgotten about me and made new friends."

He stared intently at her, and Gwen thought he was trying to work something out.

"I was devastated when you left. You didn't…" he trailed off, looking away suddenly.

She squeezed his hand and he turned back to her.

"I didn't say goodbye," she finished for him. "I was just a kid, Arthur. There was a lot going on, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I _couldn't_ say goodbye, because that would mean the life I knew was truly over."

"I know," he said quietly. "And I know it's selfish of me to have been angry with you for it. But I still wondered about you. You were always in the back of my mind, even as I got older and met new friends and dated girls and… I always wondered."

"I thought about you too, Arthur. I wouldn't be here now otherwise."

"What made you decide to come find me, anyway?"

"I heard someone in town mention your name, and I couldn't believe it. I mean, yes I had thought about you, but I never thought I'd run into you. I just wanted to see you, really. I wasn't even sure if I was going to try to talk to you or not—"

"I'm glad you did," he interjected, pulling their joined hands onto his lap as a small smile bloomed on his face.

"Me, too," was all she could say, grinning back at him. She was still dazzled by how perfectly he had matured, the awkward little boy she knew. She couldn't tear her eyes from his face, intent on absorbing every detail she'd missed – the strong line of his jaw, the long sweep of blonde lashes, the curve of his lips.

"What are the chances?" she blurted as the thought occurred to her suddenly. "That you and I would—that we would end up…you know," she struggled to identify what was happening between them. She didn't know yet, honestly.

"Fucking?" Arthur suggested crassly, raising his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean!" She shoved him, barely managing to make him sway where he sat. God, she was stronger when she was just a girl! Or maybe he was just weaker then, she amended as her body automatically recoiled against the hard muscle of his arm. "Anyway, can you imagine telling us, back then, that we would be like this?"

He wrinkled his nose, and Gwen thought that was exactly the reaction that his childhood self would have had. She laughed as she recalled that boy, and how Arthur really hadn't changed that much.

"Yeah, I suppose you were too invested in the idea of cooties at that point."

He laughed, shrugging slightly. "I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…I don't know, I think I was a little aware of you in that way…Not, not in _that_ way, obviously," he qualified quickly as his eyes indicated her womanly curves, resting briefly on her full breasts and the sweet spot he'd discovered between her legs.

Gwen felt herself growing warm at the suggestion of his awareness of her, but she tried to shrug it off, laughing softly. "Are you saying…you had a _crush_ on me, Arthur Pendragon?"

He kicked his feet distractedly against the cement ledge beneath them. _God_ , he was such a boy. "No…I didn't say…I just..." he petered out lamely.

Gwen was forced to re-examine her whole childhood with this boy, who had apparently harbored some deeper fondness for her way longer than she had imagined.

"Since when?" she prodded, now desperately curious.

He mumbled something, and she scooted to bump herself against his side, this time with a little more force. "What was that?"

He gave her a sardonic look, raising his eyebrows in resignation. "Since about the day after you first interrupted our practice. That is, before you bullied your way onto the team."

She beamed to herself, disbelieving that Arthur had carried a torch for her for that long.

"What was it, then? You liked being shoved around by a girl?"

He scoffed now. "Gwen, you were the best player on the team, and you weren't even _on_ the team!"

"You liked me because I kicked your arse?"

"It was either that or hate you for damaging my fragile 7-year-old ego."

She laughed loudly now, re-evaluating everything she knew about Arthur with this new information in mind. It was a little ridiculous, that after they'd reconnected so seamlessly and explored each other so _thoroughly_ , they could still be embarrassed to discuss their feelings.

Briefly, she considered asking him if he _like liked_ her, just for sport. _  
_

But now he was pretending to pout.

She scooted from her perch next to him, moving to stand between his dangling legs. It didn't quite work, as she was already considerably shorter than him and he was sitting a good four feet off the ground.

She placed a hand on each of his knees, smoothing them up his thighs until she met his hips. It was probably the look on her face that compelled him to lean forward so that she could reach him better.

" _You_ , Arthur Pendragon, are very much worth the wait." She soothed his bruised ego, taking his face in her hands to kiss him ardently, to make up for the pain she'd inflicted on his poor little boy's heart.

He was won almost immediately, pushing himself off the ledge to reach her level and then promptly pulling her against him to deepen the kiss.

His arms circled her very grown up waist, and her hands rested on his broad shoulders, and there was nothing childish about the way they clung to each other.


	4. Chapter 4

This time, they'd opted for delivery.

Arthur had been tickling her mercilessly, which had predictably progressed into a full on grinding session, like the two horny teenagers they apparently were.

 _I suppose we never got to experience that phase with each other_ , Gwen mused in some far off, half-lucid corner of her mind.

She wondered what Arthur's awkward teenage phase had been like, but it was hard to imagine when his graceful, hardened body was currently igniting every nerve in hers.

When the buzzer rang, Arthur was so startled that he fell off of her and onto the floor, naked. Gwen giggled manically, but had enough sense to pull herself out of bed and drape his dressing gown around her small frame. Miraculously, she was still clad in a tank top and sleep shorts.

"I'm not finished with you yet!" he called after her as she scampered to the door and struggled to contain her laughter as she pulled it open.

An old, familiar face greeted her, evidently just as surprised as she was.

And unless Uther Pendragon had given up retirement to become a pizza delivery man, she sincerely doubted he was who she had been expecting.

Her eyes went wide and before she could collect herself she'd slammed the door in a sudden panic. _What was she supposed to do?_

Gathering the remainder of her rather fuzzy wits, she pulled the dressing gown tighter around her and opened the door again slowly, hoping her smile was more convincing this time.

"Sorry about that, it's drafty in here!" she stammered.

He fumbled a little, obviously not expecting someone else to answer the door. "Uh, hello there…I'm looking for my son, Arthur."

"Er…yes. Hi, sir, let me just…" Acutely aware that she was currently sans bra, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest and turned to call for Arthur. Before she could open her mouth, however, he was stumbling toward her with a bewildered expression. He was topless, but thankfully he'd found some sleeping pants to put on.

"Father? What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd check in on you, but if now's a bad time—"

"No, no," Arthur interrupted, and Gwen stepped aside to give him space to enter. "Uh, come in. Do you want me to put the kettle on?"

"That won't be necessary."

Gwen was struck by the change in this man. Not physically; he looked much the same as she remembered, albeit a little grayer and perhaps not as tall or imposing. But then, she'd grown a bit herself since she'd last seen him.

No, it was his demeanor, she supposed, that caught her attention. He seemed so _meek_. Fragile, even. There was nothing of the stern, intimidating disposition that she had been so well acquainted with as a child.

Arthur gestured for his father to sit down and he did so, playing with his gloves idly in his lap.

"I was just thinking—er, excuse me, I just realized I haven't introduced myself. Uther Pendragon," he said, standing up abruptly and extending his hand to Gwen.

She stared at it, feeling a little surreal and unsure of what to do.

Arthur was quicker, rescuing her from the awkward decision to either embarrass the older man or try to pretend she didn't already know him.

"Father, this is Guinevere. You've met her. Remember? She and I used to—"

"My god!" Uther exclaimed. " _Is it_? Little Gwen Leodegrance?"

Gwen nodded, suddenly shy. "Nice to see you again, sir."

His shocked expression transformed into a warm smile and he stepped forward. "Come here my dear, how long it's been," and he took her into a hug.

She had never received a hug from Uther Pendragon before, but she wasn't about to refuse him now.

"What a fine young woman you've become," he proclaimed as he looked her over, then diverted his eyes with a dignified blush as he realized what she was wearing. "Er…so you and Arthur are…um…"

Arthur cleared his throat. "Gwen's just visiting. Needed a place to stay."

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence as Gwen shot a look at Arthur.

"Of course," Uther nodded, happy to play along. "And how is your mother, dear? I haven't seen her since the…well, the—"

"She's fine," Gwen interrupted. It may have been 15 years ago, but it wasn't any less painful to recall. "Retired now, but she really enjoys her place. Has a wonderful garden and everything."

"Ah, that's good, very good," Uther nodded absently, then shook himself into the present. Gwen knew the feeling; she couldn't count how many times the smallest glimpse or gesture pulled her into a trance of memories, and she the only one who could drag herself out of it.

"Do send her my tidings," he said finally.

She nodded, catching herself before she rolled her eyes. She was familiar with this more unnecessarily formal side of Uther. For a moment she'd thought that man gone, but clearly he wasn't – not completely. She'd always fancied him something of a relic of the old world, of an era long gone. But she supposed it had more to do with his disciplined upbringing; after all, it must be difficult to unlearn the customs of an upper-class rearing.

Interestingly, Arthur had never bought into it. He'd been down-to-earth as long as she'd known him, or at least as down-to-earth as one could be with a father like Uther Pendragon. That was Arthur's rebellious spirit, she thought, and perhaps a little bit of influence from the people he surrounded himself with. She liked to think she'd played a part as well.

"So…you were thinking…?" Arthur prompted. He must have sensed Gwen's discomfort.

"Yes, I… I had hoped to invite you to dinner tomorrow evening with Diane and me."

"Um, sure…that would be fine. Where?"

"We have reservations at The Den at seven-thirty. Guinevere, you are very welcome to join us if you wish."

"Oh, that's—" Gwen started awkwardly, not entirely sure what she was about to say.

"We'd love to," Arthur interjected for her again, his eyes saying _trust me._ Gwen nodded and gave a nervous smile, equal parts grateful to Arthur for saving her attempt at a polite declination and horrified at what he had potentially committed her to.

"Wonderful," Uther smiled. "It's settled. We'll see you then. Diane will be so pleased." He stood to clap a hand on his son's shoulder and Gwen moved out of the way to let him pass, but suddenly he was upon her, pressing a polite kiss to her cheek before turning to the door.

"Oh and Arthur," he turned back, remembering something. "Why don't you bring your yearbook along? Might be fun."

He departed with a clumsy wink, and when Gwen turned to Arthur for an explanation, he merely shrugged and shook his head.

* * *

"Did your father remarry?" Gwen asked as she tucked into a slice of pizza, her head propped on a pillow in Arthur's lap as they lounged on the sofa.

She was curious whether the change she perceived in Uther's demeanor was as marked as she thought, or if she'd simply had a distorted impression of him in her overly imaginative child's brain.

"No…not yet, at least. He's been 'dating' Leon's mum for about a year and a half now, though."

"Wow, really? Wait… _Leon,_ Leon? The one who always called me 'Curly?'"

"The very same," Arthur nodded, cracking a small smile at the childhood taunt that had eventually morphed into an affectionate nickname. The joke had always been on Leon, of course, since his hair rivaled Gwen's for unruliness.

"Huh. I mean, I guess she was a pretty fit mum, if I remember right. Do you think he's been into her for a long time?"

"I don't know!" Arthur made a face. It was plainly a topic he wasn't comfortable with yet.

"Okay then, found your kryptonite," Gwen muttered. "Well…is it weird? Do you get along with her?"

"Sure," he seemed much more at ease with the direction the conversation had taken. "I've known her forever anyway, it's just getting used to her being around more often. And in that…capacity."

"What about Leon? How does he feel about it?"

Growing up in a relatively small village, Gwen was painfully aware of how little shifts in relationships created ripple effects for the entire community. Everyone needed something to talk about, after all.

Arthur considered for a moment. "Strange at first, I think. Then a little upset, but I'm not sure exactly why. I know he's still on good terms with his dad, so maybe that's part of it. His dad hasn't seen anyone since the divorce that I know of."

"What happens if they get married?"

Arthur stared blankly. "I don't know, honestly. I never thought… I mean, I don't know if either of them would rush into that considering both of their pasts… but it would certainly make things interesting between me and Leon. We're good friends as it is."

"Hmm."

"What about—" Arthur started, then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to ask and cleared his throat.

Gwen peered up at him expectantly until he mumbled, "Nevermind. You finished?"

Arthur wriggled under her until she sat up. Collecting the nearly demolished pizza box, he slipped it into the fridge before returning to Gwen on the sofa.

"What did you sign me up for?" she sighed as she settled against his chest, her body stretching along the length of his.

"Don't worry, it's just dinner."

She snorted. "Arthur, it's your father. It's never _just dinner._ "

He smoothed the hair back from her temple. "I think you'll find he's changed quite a bit."

"Mmm, maybe," she said with a yawn.

"Not falling asleep yet, are we?" he teased, dragging his knuckles lightly over her spine.

"Why, what's next?"

"I thought we'd worked out an ideal schedule: sleep, eat, shag...sleep, eat—"

Gwen chuckled, covering his mouth with her hand and resting her chin on his chest to meet his playful gaze.

"Well then, if you're still hungry..." she smirked, cocking an eyebrow suggestively.


	5. Chapter 5

Gwen teetered at the edge of waking, willing the dreamlike memory to stay in her grasp. She could almost feel the cool, hardwood step beneath her.

"…that boy, you know, the Pendragon child?"

"Pendragon?" she heard her father's voice coming from the kitchen. Gwen perched on the stairs, out of sight. "Isn't that the family that owns all that property up in Albion Meadow?"

"Heaven knows why they've put the boy on that team, you'd think he'd be on the private school league with the rest of his like."

"You can't blame the child for being rich, Elsa. I'm sure they have a good reason for it."

Her mother hummed noncommittally, and Gwen heard the thud of cabinets opening and closing. She strained her ears to follow the conversation through the bustle of dinner preparation.

"…get along, Gwen and the boy?"

"Mmhmm, every time I check in I see them together. Thick as thieves. I know his father can't be happy about it."

"Surely he's not about to choose his son's friends? I don't see what the problem is. They're just kids, Elsa."

She sighed. "I know, but before we know it they won't be anymore. Soon enough they're going to start noticing the difference between the two of them, and I don't want Guinevere to get hurt."

 _Difference?_ Gwen remembered thinking. _What difference?_ Sure, Arthur was a boy, and Gwen was a girl, but what did that matter? Gwen knew plenty of boys.

Her father's voice came softer now. "She's going to get hurt eventually, baby, there's nothing we can do about that. She has a lot of learning to do. Have you talked to his father?"

"No, I think he sends someone to pick the child up every day. I'm sure he's probably aware of it."

"Well, it seems fine to me. Long as we're not getting any more complaints about a girl on the team. What did you expect anyway, getting her on that team, that she wasn't going to make any friends?"

From the heavy silence that fell, Gwen imagined her mother was probably giving her father one of _those_ looks.

"I'm not a fool, Tom! Of course I knew she'd make friends…around all those boys all the time. I wasn't happy about it at first, but I know it's what she wants, and more importantly what she needs. We discussed this already. I just wish you would keep an eye on it, that's all."

"Alright," her father sighed, and she heard the crinkle as he shuffled the pages of the newspaper. "But don't you tell me that you didn't have any friends that were boys at that age."

"Not rich white ones, no I didn't."

"Baby, it's nearly the twenty-first century. We haven't raised Gwen to think anything of it."

"That doesn't mean she isn't going to face it. You know it's only a matter of time."

He sighed. "We can't protect her from everything. They're just kids now; it's harmless. She's just discovering things and the world is bright and new. Let's not shatter that for her just yet, okay?"

At last her mother seemed appeased. "Okay. But I'm going to remind you of this conversation ten years from now, and you'll be eating your words."

She heard the rumble of her father's deep chuckle. "I wish I could eat them right now, I'm starving!"

Even Gwen, the child that she was, could perceive the lapse of tension as she heard a light smacking sound and chuckles coming from both of her parents.

* * *

"I should really go and at least change my clothes," Gwen yawned, turning over. "I can't very well just wear yours everywhere."

Arthur merely squeezed her closer in protest, burrowing his face into her neck and mumbling something.

Gwen stroked his hair and his neck, thinking she felt much the same as he did. But for once, practicality prevailed.

"Arthur, I'll be back. I just need to take care of a few things."

She received only a groan in reply, but he loosened his grip enough that she could slip reluctantly away from the warmth and comfort of his arms. It was such a strange feeling; familiar but new, comfortable but exciting.

She shivered as she retreated from the bed and slipped her shorts on, underwear be damned. Scouring the floor for her top, she wondered how Arthur found anything in his room. She settled for digging in his neglected dresser for a clean t-shirt, pulling it over her head and bunching it at her hip with a hair tie so she wasn't swimming in the garment.

She shook her hair out loosely down her back and attempted to tuck it behind her ears. Turning to check on her companion, she was surprised to find he wasn't passed out as she had expected. He'd buried his face in the pillow, his powerful, muscled back and shoulders emerging from the sheets, but he was watching her intently as she turned around.

"What?"

A small smile tugged at his lips, but he just shook his head and continued to watch her.

She ran her fingers through her hair once more, arching her back and thinking quite smugly she knew what he was looking at now.

Wandering to the kitchen to find breakfast before she left, she rifled around before spotting a can of quick oatmeal on top of the fridge and stood on tiptoe to reach it.

A whisper of movement made her turn and he was there behind her, his hand glancing up her thigh to graze the scant exposed skin where her rear met the top of her thigh. Her shorts must have ridden up. Warm breath puffed over her neck as he placed a kiss there, his free hand coming to wrap around her waist. He indulged a moment longer before lifting his head and pulling the object of her efforts down for her.

"I take it you like the outfit," she chuckled as he stepped back to allow her to continue her task.

"You could say that. Haven't seen you in my clothes since... since they actually fit you, I suppose."

Like lightening, the memory came to her: Arthur's small hands offering her a spare t-shirt and gym shorts. "You can wear these for now," he'd said.

It was amazing that even now she could remember the way it felt to take off her sopping wet practice uniform and trade it with the warm, dry, slightly too small clothes from Arthur. She remembered thinking they smelled of him and of his house, and wondering if her house would smell different to him.

"You look weird," he'd observed when she finished.

"I'd like to see how _you'd_ look in _my_ clothes," she countered.

"No thanks," he wrinkled his nose. "Hey, wanna play hide and seek?"

She snorted, shaking herself into the present. "I'm not sure they ever did fit me, exactly. But it's hard to believe I'm practically swimming in them now," she pulled at the t-shirt, demonstrating the considerable amount of extra fabric.

"I like it, especially with your hair like that. And not to mention no knickers," he grinned.

She reached for the nearest object – a bag of crisps, as it happened – and hurled them at his chest. He caught them effortlessly and snickered.

"Maybe I'll start carrying an extra pair of knickers around with me everywhere in case another one of my childhood friends decides to spirit me away."

"Admit it," he challenged her, eyes dancing with the light that had drawn her to call out to him when she'd first seen him again. "You don't want to leave."

She wished she could refute him, just for the sake of wiping the infuriating grin off his face.

"You know what?" she narrowed her eyes, "I've really got to go take care of some things." Pressing the unopened container of oatmeal to his chest, she stalked to the living room to collect her small bag and made her way to the front door.

"Gwen, wait – Guinevere!" he strode after her. Just before she disappeared outside she turned around, and he was relieved to see a teasing smile on her lips.

He was more than happy to oblige when she wiggled her finger to beckon him closer, bringing his face to hers with her small, capable hands; drawing him into a slow, maddening kiss that left him feeling a bit drunk. Her eyes were glazed with want, too, as she pulled back to look at him one more time.

"See you later, Pendragon." Her voice was smoky and promising, and he watched her saunter off toward the park.

But for that last kiss, he'd have been terrified that this was the last he'd see of her.

But she'd never steal his t-shirt, would she?

* * *

"So he wasn't kidding then. You've still got your yearbooks?"

She'd returned just a few hours later with a slightly larger bag filled with more clothing options and a few toiletries.

Arthur was thumbing through the pages, brow furrowed, apparently in search of something.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. It's stupid, I know, but there are actually some good memories in here."

"Oh yeah?" She crawled on the bed to kneel beside him where he sat, peering over his shoulder. He was perusing the sports section. "Did you play footy all the way through?"

"Yep. And basketball...and track." He said a bit sheepishly, trying not to gloat.

"Mmm, a Renaissance man. Or just a jock. How were your marks, anyway? I seem to remember you had a particular interest in biology."

He snorted. "Yeah, and you collected rocks instead of dolls. Don't tell me you're a geologist now, Indiana Jones?"

"Actually, he was an archaeologist." Gwen rested her chin on his shoulder, her lips inadvertently grazing his cheek as he turned his head.

He rested his forehead to hers, his eyes so close she could almost feel his lashes brush against her nose.

Instead his lips brushed a kiss over her freckles before turning back to the book, and she laid her head fully on his shoulder, helping him flip the pages.

"They were good," he mumbled after a moment. "My marks. I guess I was kind of a jock, but I kept up for the most part. Biology, though...I think by that point I was less interested in the bugs and more interested in whichever girl was sitting across from me in the lab. Which I suppose is still biology, so I guess you're right."

Gwen chuckled, smoothing her hand over the pages until she froze at something, jerking her head closer to get a better look. "Bloody hell, is that Percy?"

Now it was Arthur's turn to laugh. "The one and only. I guess he was a bit smaller the last time you saw him, eh?"

"He was big then, but _damn_ , he wasn't _that_ big!"

"You should see him now, I think he's even bigger."

She shook her head in amazement. "I can't imagine. Are you still friends with him?"

"We hang out when he's in town. He's around now, actually."

Gwen kept turning the pages, wondering what her life might have been like if she'd stayed and gone through school with Arthur. She saw the girls' sports teams, better developed than she'd expected, and recognized a few girls from her youth. None she had been close with.

She found Arthur's portrait and guessed he must have been a bit of a heart-throb, though she preferred the full-grown maturity of the man beside her. Now that she considered it, she didn't know how she would have handled being with Arthur during that phase of his life. Would they have fallen out? It was hard to imagine, but she knew it wasn't uncommon among childhood friends. Would she have been jealous of the attention he got from other girls?

When might she have realized the attraction she felt toward him? Or was the distance she'd had from him all these years part of the reason she no longer saw him as a brother?

There were too many variables to consider, and it was beginning to give her a headache.

"Are you okay?" Arthur said suddenly, and Gwen realized her infamously transparent face must have held a strange expression.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just, you know, thinking how different it might have been if we had gone to school together."

"I know, it's kind of scary to think of, actually."

Gwen slid her hand over his where he held the book open in his lap, and pressed a kiss to his neck.

He turned to sneak a kiss from her. And another. "I think I'm gonna shower before we go. Care to join?"

"Maybe another time. My hair," she said, sucking at his bottom lip to soften the rejection. She'd just tamed her hair and was not about to go through that ordeal again by getting it wet. At least not before they met his father for dinner.

"I'll hold you to that," he grumbled against her mouth, sliding the book off his lap and wrapping his arms around Gwen's waist to pull her over him instead. She squeaked and then moaned, giving into the kiss when his tongue caressed hers.

"Okay," she tried between kisses. "Okay, Arthur, you need to go!" She shoved at him, almost falling over in the process. "Shower. Now."

"Yes, Mrs. Leodegrance," he chirped, dragging himself up to follow her orders.

"That's my mother!" She called after him, hearing the thud of the bathroom door closing and the squeak of the faucet as he turned the water on.

She laid back to stare at the ceiling, smiling to herself. She was in a good place, and she dared not let her thoughts wander too far into the future. To what awaited her back home.

It was strange how quickly her idea of home was beginning to shift again. She couldn't quite say it felt like she'd never left, but she did feel like maybe there was still a place for her here. Like somehow the universe knew she'd make it back, no matter how long it took her. Truthfully, she had little attachment to the community she'd grown up in; it was Arthur that had given her the most comfort and a sense of belonging.

Stretching, she wriggled around on top of the mattress, her arm brushing the corner of Arthur's yearbook.

She flipped onto her stomach to browse idly through the remaining sections, not recognizing many people. Arthur would pop up here and there, usually in a school assembly or with his friends in a classroom.

Snorting as she turned to the 'Romance' page, she wondered who in their right mind would ever volunteer to immortalize their sixth form relationship. Well, immortalize was probably a strong word, but–

Gwen did a double take as she recognized teenaged Arthur with his arms wrapped around a pretty brunette, the two of them smiling at the camera. She rolled her eyes at the caption:

"Arthur Pendragon and Mithian Gedref are without a doubt the cutest couple of the year!"

Foolishly, her heart shuddered in her chest. _Am I seriously jealous of Arthur's school girlfriend?_ She asked herself. _Maybe a little,_ she admitted. After all, he'd mentioned that he'd dated other girls. And it wasn't like she hadn't dated anyone.

He did look happy. She wondered how teenaged Gwen would have taken that.

 _No use crying over spilt milk_ , she resolved, snapping the book shut and setting it on the floor.

The girl may have had a few years with Arthur in school, but it was Gwen who got to reap the benefits of his experience.

Tossing her shirt and shorts on the floor, she snuck down the hallway and fixed her hand tentatively on the doorknob, resting her ear against the door. Arthur was still in there, humming to himself.

She chuckled as the knob gave easily beneath her hand, and slipped inside to shed the rest of her clothes.

 _So much for the hair_ , she thought, checking herself in the mirror. It was a necessary sacrifice.

She tugged the curtain away slightly with her finger, then boldly thrust her hand behind the curtain to test his reaction. Arthur suddenly went quiet, but a moment later she felt a slippery hand grasping hers, and then he was yanking her into the tub. She nearly fell over but he held her up, laughing.

As she straightened up, hair and body thoroughly wet, the amusement faded from his eyes and he looked at her, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"What, um... What about your hair?"

"I changed my mind," she smirked, and he his lips quirked into a dazed smile before he pulled her against him and leaned to delve his tongue into her mouth.

Later, Gwen was towelling her hair dry and wondering how she was going to make it presentable. They had an hour until they had to meet Uther across town.

She stood before the mirror, eyes focused on her reflection but thoughts much farther away.

It was too easy to get lost in memories, but her brain switched gears when Arthur snuck behind her.

He was stooping down to look for something, but when he caught her eye in the mirror he gave a half-smile, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You want me to braid it for you?" he asked, and Gwen just gaped at his reflection.

"You remember how?" her hands froze where she'd been combing her fingers through her locks. Arthur had always found her hair fascinating, even as a child.

"Sure," he shrugs. "It's like riding a bike, right? You never really forget. Not after how many times you made me do it for you."

She laughed at him. "You're joking! _You're_ the one who asked me how to do it in the first place, and then you insisted on doing it every time."

As it happened, Arthur did remember how to do it, give or take a half dozen tries. She nearly slapped his hands away after the fifth attempt, but he was patient and determined, and he cracked little jokes to make her smile until he finished.

It wasn't half bad.

"Now, what about mine?" he asked seriously, preening in the mirror.

Gwen just burst out laughing and reached to muss his hair up.


	6. Chapter 6

Gwen pulled at the bottom of her skirt nervously, hoping it would be appropriate. She'd never been to The Den. It was one of those institutions that men like Uther Pendragon frequented – not exactly inside her family's realm of viable outings. In fact, she'd always been under the impression that one needed an invitation or a long-standing reservation to get in.

Not a problem for the Pendragons, of course.

"Calm down, it's only dinner," Arthur spoke softly in her ear, pinching her side to make her giggle. She schooled her expression as they approached the hostess.

"Welcome, Mr. Pendragon. Right this way, please." As she ushered them to the reserved table, Gwen tried to restrain herself from looking too curious as she surveyed the rest of the decadently styled room. It was amazing how easily she felt reduced to a child in the face of opulence.

The table was empty. Gwen hovered, not sure which seat to take. Every simple gesture in this restaurant felt like a political one.

"That's odd," Arthur remarked, taking a seat nearest the window. "He's usually here first. Come here."

Gwen walked around the table to stand by the chair beside his, but she still hesitated. "Shouldn't I be sitting across from you?"

"No one really cares. I know Father won't. And if for some reason he does, I'm sure he will be far less scandalized by your seat choice than by how he saw us the other day."

She blushed, taking the seat beside him. "I'm a little embarrassed about that, but how was I supposed to know he'd show up? I thought he was the pizza man."

Arthur had pulled her seat closer and he turned to nuzzle her neck, his hand resting lightly on her knee beneath the table. She closed her eyes as his breath tickled her skin, sending a bolt of heat down her neck.

"Arthur," she whispered reproachfully, though her heart wasn't in it. Her eyes shot up at the unmistakable sensation of being watched, and sure enough the hostess was eyeing them and giggling with her colleague.

She reached a hand over and squeezed his thigh to get his attention. He lifted his head but his eyes were still glazed.

"Uther could be here any second," she tried.

"Doesn't that make it that much more exciting?" he whispered.

"Ew," she replied, and Arthur laughed.

"I'm just kidding. And don't worry about my father. I'm not sure if you noticed but he's a bit more relaxed these days."

"Actually, I did notice, but I was going off some pretty old memories so I wasn't sure."

Arthur nodded, toying idly with the selection of unnecessary utensils at his place. "I think it's Leon's mum. He was so lonely and jaded when I was a kid, I think he forgot how to have relationships. Any kind of relationship. But she's sort of brought him back to life in a way, you know?"

"Reinvigorated him?" Gwen raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, gross," Arthur scrunched his nose, making Gwen snicker. "But you know what I mean. He's actually been really present with me. I never thought we'd have a relationship like this."

Gwen squeezed his hand in his lap. "I'm really happy for you, Arthur," she smiled genuinely.

He smiled to himself and then did a double take. "Oh, Gwen, I'm sorry I should have–"

"No, no, Arthur, this isn't about me. And anyway, I still have my mum."

He just nodded, squeezing her shoulder and pulling her against him so he could place a kiss on the crown of her head.

"And you have me," he whispered.

* * *

When they did arrive, they were three and not two. Gwen recognized Uther first, and deduced that the honey-haired woman on his arm must be Leon's mum.

Diane was as lovely as Gwen remembered, though her memories of the woman were few. She was one of the mums that would stand on the sidelines during games and occasionally bring snacks and drinks. What Gwen remembered most was that she wasn't among the group of parents that had protested her presence on the team.

She supposed that was enough to like the woman.

Trailing behind them was a gentleman with curly golden locks to match Diane's, and a neat beard.

"I guess they invited Leon, too," she heard Arthur's low whisper, but she was too absorbed to look away. It was both strange and fascinating to map out the changes in the people she'd left behind so long ago. Leon had grown tall and broad and handsome, but his eyes were still soft and open, betraying his natural kindness for any casual observer to note.

He seemed somewhat nervous as his mother called laughingly for him to hurry up.

Introductions made, Diane smiled warmly for Gwen, saying that she remembered her well and always admired her determination as a young girl.

Gwen blushed and Arthur smiled beside her. She could tell he was itching to touch her.

"Hi, Gwen. It's good to see you," Leon said a little formally, a small smile on his lips. He extended his hand to her, but Gwen could not resist hugging him. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around her lightly to return the embrace.

When they all sat down, Gwen was faced with another harrowing decision: what to order. Arthur left his menu closed, already knowing what he wanted, and Gwen tried to catch his eye as she perused.

Sensing her nervousness, he leaned and whispered, "Anything you want. Father's covering it. He won't even blink."

Gwen swallowed, unused to such liberties, and scanned the menu. In the end, she chose a pasta dish that fell somewhere in the middle of the price range. Arthur ordered some kind of steak, and she didn't catch what the other three ordered, preoccupied as she felt Arthur's hand stroke her lower back.

"Arthur, I'm disappointed that you haven't brought your yearbooks along."

"Oh, Uther, really? During dinner?" Diane said.

"Actually, we had a bit of a look through this afternoon before we came here. Not much to share, mostly just the sports photos."

Leon's eyes flitted to Gwen's face, and she wondered what he was thinking.

Gwen swallowed, still feeling inexplicably nervous. "It was nice to see Arthur at that age," she commented neutrally.

"Star of the academy, he was," Uther beamed proudly.

"Father, please," Arthur started as Leon snickered, then sat up suddenly with a cough.

Gwen felt Arthur's foot bump hers as he readjusted his legs.

"But what about you, Guinevere? Do you mind sharing what you have been up to?"

"Oh," she laughed nervously, "Not much."

She had expected such questions when she accepted that she would be attending the dinner, and had come up with a few canned responses that she hoped would deter further investigation.

She just wasn't entirely comfortable trying to synthesize her life into a few sentences that made it sound interesting to others.

Uther frowned, and she realized everyone was looking at her expectantly. "Come now, it's been many years, and you look very well. You must have something to share?"

Gwen wriggled in her seat, taking a sip of water. "Well, I did start my own sort of small organization."

She felt Arthur stiffen with surprise next to her and he suddenly seemed as interested in her response as everyone else.

"That's wonderful, Guinevere! What is it you do?" Diane inquired.

"Um, it's a kind of mentoring program for young girls. But it's...not fully developed yet."

"How delightful," she said pleasantly. "Especially since you had such a difficult–" she seemed flustered for a moment. "That is, Leon has been considering starting his own business as well. Haven't you, dear?"

Gwen's relief at having the attention diverted from her was matched by Leon's obvious discomfort at the change of topic.

"Er, right. Yes, I suppose so..." he said unenthusiastically.

After some prompting from his mother, he described his current venture haltingly, as if he was convinced that no one else could possibly be interested. But Gwen smiled and nodded, grateful for the chance to relax her guard for a few moments.

She laughed politely with the group at his self-deprecating jokes and the way his mother reprimanded him for it, and finally she began to feel a little more comfortable.

Her gaze wandered as she sipped at her water, and something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She straightened and craned her neck as her heartbeat accelerated, but the servers blocked her line of sight.

It was _impossible_ , she knew, but she couldn't help herself looking. When the path cleared she was disappointed to realize that she had indeed been imagining it, and she shook her head.

"Guinevere, are you okay?" someone was asking.

She realized that the whole table was focused on her again.

"Oh, yes. I just... I should–Excuse me," she said, scooting her chair back, and watched with embarrassment as all three men stood politely. She wasn't comfortable having such decorum observed on her behalf, but she supposed it came with the environment, along with a few other surprises.

Like the fact that the toilets had an actual attendant, freshly pressed hand towels and a chaise for resting. Briefly, she wondered what the point of such furniture in a bathroom was, but as she checked her make up and tucked a few flyaway curls behind her ears she thought staying in there sounded fairly enticing.

On her way out she was ready to zigzag her way back to their table when her gaze fell on a face that made her stop in her tracks.

It wasn't the face she'd thought she'd seen before. In fact, it was the face that confirmed it had been impossible.

Suddenly her blood ran cold and she felt a wave of nausea pass over as her heart seemed fall into the pit of her stomach.

She was paralyzed, her ears blocking everything but the sound of her shallow breathing as a tempest of emotions warred beneath the surface. She couldn't say how much time passed, but she vaguely registered a nearby voice that might have been addressing her, and then Arthur's strong hands were at her waist, tugging her along gently. But she couldn't tear her eyes from the man.

He was older, grayer, and more wrinkly, but it was him. She was sure of it. The same smug, self-important air as he conversed with his company. Arthur was saying her name, and she let him pull her with him.

Just before she could muster the strength to look away, she felt the man's eyes snap to hers.

Unrecognizing.

And then they looked away.

It filled her with such anger, she tore herself from Arthur's grasp and went straight for the exit.

Outside, her breath came in short bursts and she bent over, preparing to be sick. Arthur was close on her heels, bringing his arms around her, holding her up and then at arm's length.

"Guinevere, _Guinevere_ , are you okay?"

"No," she said finally, her eyes welling up. "I never... I never thought I'd see that vile man again."

Arthur pulled her against him. "I'm sorry," he breathed, and it became a chant. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"How can he just _be_ here?" she sobbed nonsensically against his chest. "How can he... how can people just let him be, when he...when he–"

Arthur kissed her hair and rubbed her back.

"I need to get away from here," she said decisively.

"Okay, let's go." Arthur agreed, taking her hand and kissing it.

"What do we tell your fa–"

"It doesn't matter," Arthur said, and she nodded shakily before walking with him to the car.

They drove in silence, Gwen clutching Arthur's hand in hers as she gazed out the window, hot tears streaking down her face intermittently.

She paid little attention to where they were going, but eventually they ended up at the beach. Shoes cast off, they headed hand in hand toward the abandoned shore, Arthur in his expensive suit and Gwen in her best skirt.

They sat in the sand on the berm crest, underneath the stars, as Gwen sniffed to herself.

Arthur just waited quietly for her to speak, and Gwen was grateful, though she didn't know what to say. Her mind was cluttered with thoughts and memories that had gone too long unvisited.

"I miss him so much," she said after a while, and Arthur turned to her, his eyes open and empathetic. "He was special, you know? He was... he was my Dad."

Arthur nodded, his brow knitted as he reached to stroke the hair that had fallen loose from her braid. She knew it distressed him to see her in pain, but he was doing everything she could ask him to do to help her.

"I was really heartbroken for a long time," she said, sniffing and swallowing until her voice wasn't as thick. "I didn't understand... And then I was so angry that he was stolen from me. That all those years were stolen from me. That my mother had to–" she hung her head suddenly, overcome.

"And he... That man, he just gets to go on with his life like it was nothing, like he can just forget it." She felt dizzy and manic. "Everyone's forgotten, everyone's just–"

"We haven't forgotten," Arthur said softly. "It's a huge sore on our community, and it always will be. And it's deeper and uglier the longer it goes unpunished."

"At one point, I thought I could actually forgive him," she laughed bitterly. "I thought that was what I was supposed to do. But it's not right, is it?"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not sure anyone could forgive what he did."

"But they did. Clearly, they did if he's still in his job with barely a slap on the wrist. What... what kind of world even allows that to happen? What kind of world do we live in?"

He let the sound of the tide beating against the shore fill the silence between them for a few moments.

"A beautiful one," he said softly. "A very terrible, but beautiful one that brought you and me together and gave us a childhood we can remember fondly. That... that stole my mother from me before I could know her and your father before he could know you," he sighed, turning to her though she kept her gaze fixed on the water. "I know you're angry and scared right now, Guinevere, and the years won't take that away from you. Nor will they make it any easier to bear. But don't let them embitter you to the world; there is good out there, and there is more happiness to be found. I knew your father briefly, but he loved you so much, I am sure that he wouldn't want you to let it swallow you up."

She swallowed, feeling hope in Arthur's words despite herself.

"There will always be poisonous people. But so help me, Guinevere, I won't let you bear it alone any longer. And if I can help it, I will never let any harm come to you or anyone you love so long as you'll let me."

"Oh, Arthur," she whimpered, leaning to wrap her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder as she cried.

By the time they returned to his flat, it was so late that it was nearly early. They tumbled into his bed without changing and Arthur held her quietly until the rumbling of their stomachs disturbed the peaceful silence.

"You didn't get your steak," Gwen realized with a soft laugh. She was so exhausted that she had room in her heart for nothing but levity just then.

"It doesn't matter," he replied, but his stomach took exception with another long groan.

It made her smile, and her skin felt tight from wetting it earlier.

"Come on," she tugged him up and towed him to the kitchen.

He sat down at the table, bewildered as she pulled out a box of mac and cheese to make him.

Her tenuous smile widened when she opened the fridge. "I knew I could count on you to have milk."

Arthur laughed and rubbed his eyes. "Some things never change."

"Some things never change," she echoed, her eyes warming with affection.


	7. Chapter 7

Sinking against the smooth porcelain, Gwen let the near-scalding water cocoon her. She flexed her toes against the rounded edge of the tub, coils of warmth blooming under her skin where it met the cool air just above the surface.

She closed her eyes, the light that played over her eyelids from the shifting trees outside transporting her to long ago.

In the afternoon, early enough that nothing was pressing but late enough that the sun was sinking in the window frame, they would huddle in Arthur's small bed, a blanket pulled up over their heads, breathing the same air.

From the first she'd met Arthur, Gwen had always loved to look at him. There were plenty of boys to look at, it was true, but there was something about Arthur in particular that had always captivated her.

Maybe it was how he held himself with such confidence, it had impressed her even back when he was several inches shorter than her. He always seemed so sure of things, brave enough to challenge anyone.

But she knew she liked the way his fair skin looked against the soft brown of her own, and how his hair was so light and radiant, it seemed to capture a tiny bit of the sun. She liked how his lips had a perpetual pout to them, though she couldn't have said why.

And then there was the way his blue, blue eyes could be light and open, full of wonder, or dark with a temper when things weren't going his way.

She hadn't realized her admiration for such things until after they were long gone from her life, eclipsed by a fathomless grief that was scarring to a girl entering womanhood.

But things had been simpler once. They used to exchange whispers and nervous giggles as they listened to his father shouting at someone on the telephone downstairs, pretending they were just a couple of mice hiding from a big, angry giant.

And Arthur had a picture he kept, hidden from the world; hidden from his father, who would doubtless be furious to see it in his possession; hidden from the maid who might have thought it misplaced and taken it upon herself to store away for safekeeping; secreted behind the loose baseboard next to his bed.

On those afternoons when they were sleepy after football practice and a bath, he fished it out and let Gwen hold it.

He let her trace the features of the lovely woman in the photo who seemed as happy as a person could be; whose fair hair and pink skin and laughing blue eyes matched Arthur's so perfectly.

Arthur watched as Gwen examined the photo; as she stroked the edges softly, wondering what the woman would have been like. Sometimes he bent his head with hers so that he could see it too, though even then she suspected it was probably so deeply imprinted on his mind, he needn't have opened his eyes to see it.

When they finished, Arthur would tuck it carefully away in the woodwork and they would drift back to sleep, hand in hand, Gwen's frizzy curls occasionally tickling Arthur's face, but he didn't seem to mind.

_I didn't come here for this._

It was the heavy-hearted thought that woke her to the present like a whisper in her ear, and not the first of its kind she'd deluded herself into ignoring.

_But you found something, didn't you?_ The same voice within countered, and she blinked just as a soft knock came against the bathroom door, her name muffled from the lips of the boy in her daydreams.

Arthur emerged from behind the door, six feet tall with a head and heart full of ideas and experiences she yearned to learn more of.

He gave her a smile of comfort and promise, and however weary she was, it kindled a strength in her.

"Feeling better?"

She nodded, lifting her chin out of the water.

"Well, um, my mates are playing footy in the park. I'll stay here with you if you prefer. What do you reckon?"

She sat up, water sloshing around her lap and racing in droplets over her collarbone and between the valley of her breasts.

"Let's go," she said with a hint of a smile.

* * *

"Ohhh, look who decided to show up!" Gwen heard the shout as they approached the park and recognized one of the men she'd seen the day she met Arthur again.

Several heads turned their way and the rowdy bunch shouted and hooted at his arrival, ragging on him for being late.

"We've been here nearly a half-hour, Pendragon!" another man lamented, "Where've you been?"

Arthur gave an uncomfortable laugh and shrugged, moving forward to take the ball from his friend.

Unsure of how she would be received, Gwen lingered on the outskirts of the group. _Should she wait for Arthur to introduce her?_

"Hey, who's the bird?" someone asked, and Gwen's face heated as she felt nearly a dozen sets of eyes on her, Arthur's included.

He frowned in confusion until he realized who they were referring to, and then immediately tracked his way back to her, wrapping an arm around her waist to usher her forward.

"Guys, this is Gwen. I think some of you might remember–"

"Bloody hell, that's _you_ Gwen?" one man exclaimed; another gasped, and she thought she may have heard "Curly" spoken under someone's breath.

She finally looked around at them, studying their faces to determine if she recognized anyone. They in turn examined her, a few of them a little too appreciatively.

There was no shock or pity reflected in their expressions, as she had anticipated, but intrigue and excitement.

Percival she recognized almost instantly, partially from his yearbook photos but mostly due to his stature, which was even more impressive in person. He'd been bigger than most of the boys as a child, but as a fully grown man he was formidable. She glimpsed a gentleness in his eyes, though, that led her to believe there was a great deal to uncover.

Her heart warmed to see Leon, despite her embarrassment at the night before. Still, he nodded to her with a reassuring smile that said everything. It was understood.

She wondered briefly what his mother and Uther made of the situation, and then realized a little numbly that she didn't particularly care. As kind as the old man had been, it was difficult to shake the luke warm feelings she had toward him, whether it was the remnant of a childhood scolding or her mother's prejudice impressed on her.

A few of the other men looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't have said if they were boys from the team or if they simply had common features.

Her gaze panned to the striking Irishman who'd berated Arthur upon their arrival. He had neither Leon's height nor Percival's build to contend with, yet she sensed his charisma even as he stood unspeaking, a mischievous twinkle in his soft brown eyes and a blatantly appraising smirk.

She narrowed and averted her own eyes, knowing his game immediately, but she couldn't help the smile that twitched at her lips for how obvious he was. Men like that, she knew very well, were dangerous. They wore their charm and sexuality like a badge of honor.

Nothing she couldn't handle, of course.

"Alright," Arthur's chuckle came again, but there was no mistaking the authority in his tone. "That's enough, lads, go easy on her," his hand came around her waist again and he pulled her very slightly closer.

"Guinevere, this is Brian, Rob, Percy, Leon, Graeme, Will, Charlie, and Gwaine. You'll probably recognize a few of them."

"Hiya," she said to each of them as they greeted her. When Arthur's introductions were through, one of the men– _Will,_ she thought–asked: "So, can she play?"

"Mate, you have no idea," Leon surprised her, speaking up. Gwen blushed, then allowed herself a proud grin.

The division of teams was accomplished quickly by a ritual Gwen was unfamiliar with, and the men soon broke apart to take their positions on the field: Gwaine, Rob, Leon, Brian, and Charlie on one team, and Arthur, Graeme, Will, Percy, and herself on the other.

Arthur held back before they parted, dipping his head so his lips brushed her ear.

"Let's show them what you can do," he whispered, sending a flicker of heat searing a path from her belly to her groin.

Was it possible, she wondered, to want someone so _badly_ and so _often_?

For a moment she wished she had him alone and preferably unclothed. The more rational side of her brain reminded her that there was time enough for that later, although his tone suggested he probably wouldn't be opposed to it.

She caught Gwaine's eye over Arthur's shoulder as he stretched nearby, a knowing smirk on his lips. He inclined his head and gave her a wink before jogging down the field to join the others.

As Arthur pulled away she was rewarded with a dazzling smile just for her, and her heart seemed to skip a beat.

She felt the sudden compulsion to say words she hadn't fully thought through, but bit them back and cast them from her mind along with the other worries that had been plaguing her.

She had a game to play.

* * *

In a half hour she managed to score two points against the opposing team, Percy having deflected all attempts on their own goal. Her popularity seemed to be growing exponentially by the minute.

As expected, Gwaine flirted openly with her, dancing around her as she crossed the field and doing everything in his power to distract her. He even whipped his shirt off just before she scored the first goal, but she just laughed as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

Though they had little contact, she felt Arthur's eyes on her more than once and had to fight back the inevitable fog of inappropriate thoughts to stay focused.

"This seems unfair," Leon protested after Gwen's second goal. "We're not evenly matched. Arthur, you should switch teams."

The men snickered, but Gwen bit her lip to keep from joining them. It felt good knowing she was still at the top, even after being out of practice for so long.

"Well, if you don't think you can take her," Arthur reasoned with a mischievous grin, "I'd be happy to."

Gwen hoped the glare she shot him was enough to disguise the unexpected arousal she felt at his smugness (or perhaps his proximity) as he arranged himself to guard her. She made herself as tall as she could to face him.

"I dare you to try."

Cheers and whoops erupted around them and suddenly the game was on again.

Arthur didn't go easy on her, proving himself as fierce a competitor as he'd ever been and nicking the ball from her on three occasions, but never for long. She'd always been quicker.

The men became increasingly reckless with each other, taking tumbles left and right.

After her third goal and a very close miss by Arthur caused a collision with he and Will, they decided to take a break.

Gwen stretched, adjusting her socks and taking a thirsty pull from the bottle Graeme had offered her. As he tied his shoes, she steadfastly ignored the weight of his poorly disguised sidelong glance until it became unbearable.

"What is it?"

"Ah, nothing," he said quickly, then seemed to reconsider as she waited. "I'm not sure if you remember, but I knocked you over once."

She nearly choked on the water she was drinking, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. " _What?_ "

Wincing, Graeme gave his beard a thoughtful rub. "It was back when you first joined the team, and we–a few of the lads weren't too chuffed about it."

With a snort, she recapped the bottle and passed it back to him. "Don't worry yourself about it."

His expression remained serious. "It was a nasty hit, and I'm sorry for it," he said. "For what it's worth, Arthur gave me hell after you left that day."

"It's the past, isn't it?" she offered a smile, but it must have been more of a grimace as the sunlight glared across her face.

"Aye, I guess it is," he conceded bashfully. "I was sorry about your Da, too. He helped my family when we had a break-in. Didn't even charge us."

Her mouth formed a silent 'o' as his words surprised her again, and she looked away as moisture stung at her eyes.

"Thank you," she said simply, clearing her throat before it closed up on her. "Er...Will's got a weak ankle, hasn't he?"

He chuckled, agreeing, and they exchanged small talk and advice about their strategy until she finally felt like she'd caught her breath.

That was, until she shaded her eyes to peer across the field.

Arthur stood in conversation with two men and what appeared to be one of their girlfriends, though Gwen hadn't seen her arrive. He threw his head back as he laughed with delightful abandon.

It was a welcome sight until unbidden, she was struck with the image of him between her thighs, pupils blown black and a slight sheen to his lips from her moisture. His breath, coming in hot pants against her as his lips and tongue conducted their hungry exploration; her fingers tangled into his hair and tugging, and her nails digging lightly into his scalp.

She decided then that it was quite rude of him to evoke such lust from her in public.

The rapidly growing tenderness she was almost prepared to acknowledge. The lust, however, was getting to be somewhat inconvenient.

Folding her shirt up to her sports bra to allow the light breeze to fan over her abdomen, she realized she'd been guilty of allowing her gaze to linger just below his waistline as he ran. A wave of heat pulsed through her body, which she might have attributed to exercise, except for how it seemed to settle, hot and cold, between her legs.

Most inconvenient, indeed.

* * *

Perhaps it was inevitable that Gwen scored the winning goal. Arthur's team had rallied after the short interval to manage one point as the ball glanced off Rob's boot, but in the end they were defeated.

She was ecstatic moving among her teammates as they congratulated each other, searching until she found who she was looking for.

Loser or not, his broad smile matched hers, and she sprinted toward him and jumped to straddle his waist.

He beamed up at her, strong hands supporting her while she looped her arms around his neck. There were more whistles and crass comments from the men but neither could be bothered to listen; Gwen covered Arthur's mouth with hers and kissed him soundly, her hands cradling his head, hair slightly matted with sweat.

When their lips parted they laughed, high on endorphins and perhaps something else as they gazed at each other. Gwen nuzzled her nose against Arthur's and pecked his lips a few more times before she slid back down to her tiptoes, resting her palms against his chest. As they began to take notice of the small crowd around them, she tucked her face shyly against Arthur's shirt. His heart thumped steadily beneath her ear, and a hand stroked her hair, which had come loose from her long ponytail.

"Well now, where's _my_ congratulations?" Gwaine grinned to another round of laughter and not a few rolling eyes. Arthur flipped his middle finger at him and Gwaine blew him a kiss in return.

"Good match, lads. To The Bell?"

"We'll um, meet you there," Arthur said quickly.

It didn't help with the teasing.

"Yeah, yeah. Come up for air, will you?" Percival joked, clapping Arthur on the back as the men filed off the field and collected their things. "Great game, Gwen."

When it was just the two of them, Gwen laced her fingers with Arthur's and looked up at him, arching a brow in a silent question.

"Oh please, I could feel you stripping me with your eyes the whole time," he said.

Her jaw fell. "Like you're any better!"

"Never said I was," he winked as they retrieved their things, but then he frowned. "Although, I'm afraid I might not have been the only one."

Gwen sighed. "Bloody men. I could have dressed like a nun and it wouldn't have helped. Don't you have any friends that are women?"

His expression became dreamy and distant.

"Arthur?"

"What? Sorry. Still trying to imagine you dressed like a nun."

She shoved him sideways and he was tired enough to stumble, laughing.

"Well, do you?"

"A few, but none that play. That was Elena who stopped by earlier. The others come to the pub now and then."

"Tonight?"

"Mmm, maybe. Never know who's going to show up. Why, too much testosterone for you?"

"More like not enough estrogen for the rest of the men. I'm fine with a little attention but somehow I feel like the shiny new toy."

"Gwaine has a tendency to do that around anything with legs. I'm not kidding; he's an insufferable flirt with women _and_ men. Dogs seem to like him too, come to think of it," he tilted his head as the thought troubled him, then shook it. "We're mates though; he's just taking the mickey. If you're uncomfortable I'll–"

"No," she snorted, "if _that_ made me uncomfortable I'd have a hard time getting by in this world." _  
_

Arthur nodded somberly, lost in thought.

They enjoyed the rest of the walk in silence. Holding the door open for her when they reached his flat, she dropped her bag in the entryway, stripping off her damp clothes with him close behind.

In the bathroom, Arthur removed his shirt and bent to turn on the water, testing the temperature with his hand.

"If I haven't mentioned it yet," Gwen said from behind him where she was pulling off her undergarments, "you have an incredible arse."

He chuckled, turning around and glancing over her naked form. "Why, thank you. I'll make sure to add that to my CV."

Gathering her to him, he tried to kiss her but she pulled away to help him shed the rest of his clothes.

"For the record..." he started softly when they were standing together under the water, but he didn't bother to finish as his hands caressed her with a gentleness that made her heart ache sweetly.


End file.
